


Glowing

by ghostwit



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Slow Burn, Tags to be added, Useless Lesbians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 19:28:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6164016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostwit/pseuds/ghostwit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>unfinished rosemary drabbles. i tend to write alot about them. fair warning : some of these are VERY old.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glowing

**Author's Note:**

> i am not finishing this. it ends midsentence. sorry.

You undeniably love her. More than life, more than death, more than sorrow and poetry and melancholy and the nostalgic tightening in your chest when you reread books. Trade away the coffee on your lips and the words on your tongue. The light in your eyes and the sound in your ears. All for her, all for this, all for everything you need. The catch is, the only thing you need is her. 

You see her first when you’re a child, around eight years old. You’re young and hopeful, baby fat still clinging to your cheeks. Your hair frames your face in puffy curls of white-blonde, contrasting your milk chocolate skin. When you first see her, she is wearing a tiered blouse, decorated with beads and string and a white pair of jeans. It’s colorful, and catches your eye immediately. Looking back, it was one of the ugliest things you’d seen clinging to the girl’s frame in your lifetime. But you feel inadequate, in a scrappy hand me down Hello Kitty tee and a polka dot skirt you thought was cute until you saw her. You notice something else too, the silver glinting against the pale of her ear. You’re infinitely glad you had dyed your hair the week before. 

She’s bending over a bed, rummaging through a suitcase. You look around quickly, before tossing your sports duffel to the top bunk, letting it land with a thud as it settles on the canvas sheet, dusting rising in it’s wake. The poorly made wooden frame shakes, and she shoots you this look as she coughs into her elbow that makes your tiny bones quiver. If only you’d’ve been more knowledgeable you could’ve recognized the obvious strain in the look, and seen the look on the face of her mother. You shake it off fairly quickly, your childish optimism getting the best of you. You smile your absolute prettiest smile and tell her your name. She smiles back, looking relieved. When you hear it for the first time, her name, the shock resonates through your whole body. Each syllable perfect and rounded, making you rock on your heels and press a finger to your wrist. You don’t know what to make of the sensation running through your body, so you giggle and tell her it’s a pretty name. She’s very polite and curt.

“Thank you!” before, “Do you wanna see these rose earrings I have?”

You’re quick friends, holding fast to each other as your mother motions you into the car. You trace the lines of the number written on your wrist the whole way home, a bright green bead bracelet clinking against your dirty nails. The moment you get home, you scrawl the smudged numbers on a pad of paper, your loopy numbers looking messy and inadequate next to hers. Your stubby fingers grab at the edge of the yellowed paper and yank it up


End file.
